by Jo Raven
By Melanie Marchande
MIXED UP
by Sky Corgan
MIDNIGHT MOONLIGHT
by V. J. Chambers
SORORITY SAINT
by Daizie Draper
CROSSED
by Lacey Silks
GET TO ME
by Holly Hood
ELECTRIC BLUE BUTTERFLIES
by Irma Geddon
SWEETEST TEMPTATIONS
by J.C. Valentine
Disclaimers and Copyright Notices
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CROSSED
by Lacey Silks
CROSSED
by Lacey Silks
CROSSED © Lacey Silks 2014
She is looking for the one.
He never thought the one existed.
But the one thing that connects them can also tear them apart.
Healing from a loss, Grace Brooks wants nothing more than to move on and has given every man she dated a chance—only to find they’re not worth her time.
Tying up loose ends of a case, Hunter Reeve stumbles upon a woman who may be the key to putting away a criminal family behind bars.
As danger lurks, weaseling itself into Grace’s life, Hunter is forced to make a choice between his work and Grace. And the wrong choice could have consequences neither one is ready for.
PROLOGUE
If I’d pictured a goddess, she’d have looked like Grace Brooks, Emma’s friend, the woman I’d become obsessed with because, whether she knew it or not, her life was in my hands.
When I asked Emma Cross, my boss and co-worker, to bring her friend to the coffee shop, I didn’t exactly expect to come out with a hard-on for this woman. She was absolutely breathtaking. A funky yet provocative hairstyle with what I thought was a hint of a purple streak, a row of studs in the cartilage of her left ear, and the freely scattered freckles gave her the most unique look I’d ever seen. I wondered whether the rest of her body was peppered as well, and if it was, I wanted to count each and every single beauty mark on her. As I devoured the petite body I could easily lift and the tits perfectly sized to fit into my hands, I couldn’t help but get hard. I’d been staring at her from the corner booth for over an hour, memorizing every feature, reading her lips from a distance, imagining how snugly I’d fit inside her. Shit! This could get too complicated. Now, sitting in the conference room at Cross Enterprises, the private investigations firm I worked for, I’d been begging my friend for what seemed like hours.
“You have to introduce me, Em. This is the girl.”
“And say what? Hi Grace, this is the guy who’s about to destroy your family? Hunter, you said you wanted to see Grace to verify whether she was their sister. That was it.”
“I didn’t know you had friends like that!”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Shit! Emma had that don’t fucking mess with me look. How could I have missed meeting Grace Brooks, Emma’s best friend? That’s right, I’d been elbows deep in this case and no one else and nothing else mattered. I’d been stacking up evidence to take down the Wagners for years. And now that the youngest brother had for some reason decided to fly solo, it was the perfect time to hit ’em. I almost had enough ammunition to send all of them to jail. Almost, but not quite. And here, after I’d asked Emma whether she knew this girl whose name mysteriously appeared in the stack of papers for my case, my plans just blew up in flames. Grace Brooks, the only Wagner daughter with her mother’s last name, happened to be Emma’s beautiful best friend. A best friend who for years had been estranged from a powerful family that no one had the balls to fuck with. Maybe there was a chance to get to know her after all. There had to be a reason why she didn’t keep in touch with them—maybe I could get that reason from her? What if she knew more than she let on? And if she didn’t... I could only pray she was as innocent as she looked.
We got this case from the cops themselves. They had no resources or manpower to go after the Wagner family and preferred to pay Cross Enterprises, to put one of the most powerful families in Manhattan behind bars. And the best part was that whether we got them to jail or not, so long as we did a thorough investigation, we’d get paid. So far, from my research, they ran on a clean streak—which only meant they were as crooked as the Congress. All of them except Scar, the youngest of the four brothers—the one who was the key to my paycheck and who without knowing had been giving me more intel the past few months than anyone.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I pulled my fingers through my hair. “What if we don’t tell her what I do?”
“I’m not lying to Grace.” Emma crossed her arms over her chest and began tapping her foot. I swear, this girl was acting way mature for her age. At twenty-two, she had more smarts and strength than any woman I’d ever met. When I was her age… Nope, I wasn’t going to pull that crap. I was her age only three years ago.
“What if her safety is jeopardized?” I asked. There had to be something I could say to get Emma to introduce us.
“Is it?”
“You know how her family operates. One day they’ll make enough enemies who will realize they can go after Grace to cash in. I can step in to keep her safe.”
“I don’t know, Hunter. This doesn’t sound right. Grace has been practically estranged from her family for a decade. It’s what’s kept her safe so far. Don’t you think you could be opening doors that should be locked up?”
“Emma, I can guarantee you they’re using your friend. If you don’t believe me, look at the files. They’re messing with her and she doesn’t even know it.”
Emma flipped through the few pages I had with me. She was definitely thinking about what I’d said. I could tell she was considering introducing me to her friend. My gaze inadvertently slid over Emma’s long legs right up to the hem of her pencil skirt. Damn, that girl had it going and didn’t even know it. The only reason I’d never made a move was because she was my boss and her brothers, whom I worked for as well, would kill me. After a while I got used to her pear ass prancing around the office and we became friends. No benefits. No fucking way would I risk my life, or my cock, to date Emma Cross. But one day, she’d make someone very happy.
“Come on, Em. You know I’m a good guy. You told me about the crazy stuff you girls do. With that spirit Grace would be perfect for me. All I want is a chance with her. And I promise to protect her.”
“You sound like a lovesick puppy.”
“If you’re calling me desperate, don’t. I can just see something there. Don’t I deserve happiness?”
“You know that crap doesn’t work on me, Hunter.”
“Fine, but I’ll owe you. Big time.”
She sipped on her coffee and stretched her legs out onto the chair in the conference room. Grace had left the Starbucks over a half hour ago, and I still felt the majority of my blood flow in my crotch. My fucking balls felt like ostrich eggs and I was beginning to feel like a moron, begging Emma for a chance with a girl. It didn’t matter that I’d been balls deep in another woman just this morning. It didn’t matter that I could pick and choose at a club from the herds of women willing to go down on their knees to suck me off in seconds—simply because I didn’t care for any of them, so long as I could empty my sac and relieve the pressure. They were a simple necessity, a means to an end, but they weren’t Grace. I’d never met a girl whom I thought could be the one I’d want to stick with. Not until Grace Brooks, and we hadn’t even spoken a word. And of course I wanted to stick into her as well, what man wouldn’t?
It’d be a sin not to use that body for what it was created to do—and I’d make sure that Grace Brooks realized she was created to have a man please her all day, and all night.
“You hurt her and you’re in trouble.” Emma lowered her feet and stepped up on her toes, meeting me nose to nose. “Not only from me, Hunter, but from Tristan and Julian as well. Grac
e is like a sister.” Her threat was sound and I wouldn’t dare disappoint Emma Cross.
“I know. I promise. Scout’s honor.” I lifted my hand and cringed at the honorable promise. It always sent forgotten dreadful memories of my time as a young boy to the forefront. My watch beeped. “Shit, I’m late.” I shot off the table, grabbed my duffel bag and shouted before I closed the door, “Three months, Em, and I’m back. I’ll get in touch when I land. You just make sure Grace stays single.”
And I left for Las Vegas on the biggest hunt of my life, looking to find evidence of extortion and tax evasion to put the Wagner family away for good.
CHAPTER 1
Hair dryers buzzed. Scissors clipped. The smell of hydrogen peroxide and expensive shampoo filled the air. My employees at Grace’s Salon moved around like an army of well-trained ants, styling and washing some of the world’s most famous heads. By appointment only—no one showed up here unannounced. The spa and salon had just been reviewed on television by three different celebrities, booking me up for months in advance. So when my gaze caught the doorway where my best friend Emma Cross stood beside a caveman, I nearly dropped dead.
Where in the world did she find him? This was Manhattan and definitely not the Stone Age. I rushed to the front, huffing and puffing as if I were the wolf in “The Three Little Pigs,” but of course Emma already had her puppy eyes set, ready for a battle we both knew I was going to lose.
“What is that!” I pointed to the man who hadn’t moved a muscle since the moment she dragged him in. His face remained unreadable, but that was probably because most of it was covered with long facial hair. I leaned in to look more closely. Is that a feather in there? Oh, the stench! I backed away as if I’d just run into Pepé Le Pew.
“He was undercover for a while, under Allie’s branch, and now he needs a cut before you take him to rehab.”
“Is it human?” I poked him in his arm with my forefinger, but he didn’t budge. I swear his shirt must have stiffened from all the dirt it had collected. “Wait, what do you mean I take him to rehab? It’s your job. If my clients see me with it, I’ll be ruined, Emma.”
I didn’t even care if he heard me. There was no way that dressed in clothing which had never seen a washing machine, and sporting a beard suitable for holding a Guinness World Record or at least some sort of a wild bird’s nest, he would walk a step further into my salon.
“He really needs a haircut,” she pouted, leaning into me. “And a shave. You know, if it were me, I’d just shave all of him, if you know what I mean. Maybe even give him a nice wax. That ought to bring him back, don’t you think?”
For a moment there I thought the caveman’s eyes skidded to my friend, but maybe it was just me.
“Emma, I don’t think I have scissors big enough and blades sharp enough to conquer that forest on his face. And I’d have to order at least a gallon of wax. Besides, this is not some charity salon. And even if it were, I couldn’t just let it walk in here among all my clients.” I pulled her outside. The vagabond look-alike remained in his spot, as still as he had been the moment I saw him.
“Cross Enterprises is paying for it. Allie said whatever the charge, bill her.”
I took her aside, far enough so that Allie’s next cause wouldn’t hear me. “You know I’ll do any job for you guys, but this…” I took a whiff. “Emma, I don’t think he’s been washed for years.”
“He’s traumatized.” She looked down at her watch. “Grace. I’ll owe you big time, but I have this thing with this guy.”
“Oh no! You’re not leaving me with it!”
“Grace, I’ll do anything. I promise. Please drive him to this address once you’re done.” She handed me a business card.
“Emma, don’t you dare…”
“Anything, Grace. I mean it. Love you so much. You’re the best friend every girl should have.” Emma was already stepping backward, leaving me with the caveman.
Shit! I looked back at the man standing on my doorstep. He still hadn’t moved an inch. There was something odd about him. Although he was standing right there, it didn’t seem that he was all there, the way he was staring at one spot. I’d never thought that a man of his size, tall and bulky in the shoulders, could appear so weak. When I turned again, Emma was gone and I knew I couldn’t leave him here, in full view of where a client could enter or exit the salon any minute. I swore under my breath, promising to get back at Emma, big-time.
“Come.” I pulled him by the sleeve and dragged him to the back of my salon through the side entrance in the alley. I took a clean towel (which I was sure I’d need to throw out later) and draped it over his head, then added a robe which barely fit over his shoulders, camouflaging him somewhat. The mud-bath appointment was still marinating in the tub with cucumbers over his eyes, so I pulled the caveman into the empty shower area in the next room.
“I’m praying you can understand me. Please, tell me you know how to take a shower.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw and for the first time since I’d seen him, he made a voluntary movement, startling me. Tugging at his first layer of clothing, he removed it from his shoulders. The stiff fabric crumpled to the floor. He then pulled a t-shirt over his head, and another one, revealing his upper body. A fading tattoo peeked through the overgrown chest hair. He not only needed a cut and a shave, but also some major trimming and definitely a wax in some regions I didn’t even want to venture near. And if there was any way I could forget the stench coming off this man, maybe I could stand looking at those bunched muscles in a different way. And boy were they ever hard. His lean stomach sank in a bit, defining a perfect six-pack I hadn’t seen on a man in a while. As my gaze inevitably lowered to where his hands were unbuckling the belt I held my breath. I should have turned around, but I also couldn’t help staring as the buckle opened and his pants slid off his narrow hips, right down to his ankles.
Holy fuck!
He wasn’t wearing any underwear! And why was I still staring?
But how could I not look? His cock was monstrous and it wasn’t even erect. I felt my thighs tense and my mouth dry. As I licked my bottom lip, my gaze slowly made its way up to take him in. Although filthy, he was absolutely beautiful and my heart ached at the thought of what could have happened to a man of his size, who obviously had worked out before, to turn him into a non-responsive zombie. Mr. Neanderthal, who looked like he could kill a wild boar with his bare hands, just stood there, indifferent.
Move Grace, move!
I squeezed in between him and the wall, reaching into the shower to turn it on. My chest lightly brushed against his arm, awakening an odd excitement in my belly. The water cascaded like rain from the expensive shower and I wiggled my way back past him, being forced to squish against him once more, my nipples more sensitive to the touch.
Thoughts of the Stone Age, where cavemen took their women by the hair, dragging them into the bed or whatever its equivalent was, flew through my mind. Two primal beings, all dirty and wild, having sex like animals. Grunting and writhing against each other, the man pounding into the woman with all his strength, barely finding time to remove her clothes and only shifting the skin cloth that covered her ass, because all he knew was that he wanted to be inside her. Sweat would drip off their bodies, leaving clean streaks behind as it washed away layers of dirt collected through the day.
What the hell, Grace? I shook the stupid thoughts off. If I didn’t get laid soon I’d hump the next caveman who walked through the door. And knowing the way Emma operated, it could be any time.
“You need to wash up before I can cut your hair.” I touched his elbow, gently guiding him inside the shower, where he simply stood.
“Well, this isn’t going to work. Here.” I showed him the shampoo on the wall dispenser, pumping a dab onto my hand.
He didn’t move. By this time, my right side had been soaked, but if Mr. Caveman didn’t wash up before my client was done with his mud bath, I’d be in trouble.
I reached for his h
and, sliding mine on top of his palm, transferring the creamy mixture. Yet he was as still as a statue.
“Fuck this.” I removed my shoes and stepped into the shower with him. There was no way I could wash his head properly if he just stood there. “Get down.” I pulled on his arms, forcing him to his knees, and thankfully he obliged. Dabbing more shampoo into my palm I spread the goo into his thick curls, washing the external part of his head before dragging my fingers along his scalp, massaging the soap along his head, right into his roots.
For a moment, I thought I’d heard him moan, and I smiled because this happened so often when I washed people’s hair. Most people didn’t realize how sensitive the scalp was and how a simple wash with a massage could relieve pressure and anxiety. Some had said I had magic fingers.
Noticing the caveman was leaning further into my palms, I knew I’d reached the first emotion in him—one that had probably been locked up for a long time. With his hair slicked back, his face became more defined and chiseled. His cheekbones were profound and I wondered about the jaw underneath that long beard. He opened his eyes, their deep blue hue looking up through the falling water right at me. When he left a hot breath against my belly, I suddenly felt vulnerable. What was happening to me?
The caveman stood up slowly, all on his own, without my having to guide him. My back was pressed against the shower wall, and he was so close, I couldn’t deny that caveman daydream running through my mind again. Except this time, the cave had a luxurious shower where he took the woman by her ass, lifting her up onto his hips before thrusting deep into her, pushing with all his might. She’d wrap her legs around his waist and hold on to his neck as he pounded into her, filling her completely each time until she screamed in pleasure.